


Root Reset

by waxwolf



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fix-It, Leon and Lionel make brief appearances, Root is kind of a stalker, The Machine means well but gets in the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-30 20:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8548867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waxwolf/pseuds/waxwolf
Summary: Root wakes up, but she doesn't know that she is Root... Root x Shaw story set after season 5. This was originally posted on fanfiction.net, but why not both?





	1. Root, Defender of Dogs

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic! Reviews welcome. Hope you guys like it

            Root wakes up, but she doesn’t know that she is Root. They tell her she is Ramona Shaw, and something about it recalls an echo in her tattered memory, but it doesn’t seem quite right. She shrugs with a half smile, telling the woman holding her driver’s license “If you say so.” Ten days later, when they finally release her, she signs “R. Shaw” on the papers. It flows naturally from her hand, and she’s a little more convinced.

            Leaving the hospital is both a relief and a source of anxiety. The air at Mass General had been filled with disease, crushed hopes, and death, but at least she had company in the form of a parade of professionals. Before her discharge, Cheng checked her brain functions. David tried, unsuccessfully, to uncloak her past and the causes of her injuries. Betsy pushed her to walk to the end of the hall and back. Leslie sleuthed out what she could do to support herself, and where she could live after the address on the driver’s license turned out to be a dead end. It’s just her now, and she barely knows herself. For awhile, she holds out hope that someone will come for her – someone from her past who had been looking for her. They’ll finally get around to checking Mass General, where they’ll find her new address. She’ll get an unexpected knock on the door… but it doesn’t happen, and eventually she stops waiting for it. As silence and loneliness threaten to overcome her, she throws herself into her shitty job.

            At the hospital, Leslie had quickly discovered that Root’s typing was sickeningly fast and accurate. So she got set up with a job as a secretary to the director of Yankee Animal Rescue – Boston’s premier combo animal hospital, rescue, and advocacy organization. The job is boring, but it keeps her busy, and she has to admit she is quite partial to its cause. Plus there is the added perk of the cutie from IT giving her bedroom eyes.

            Natalia’s dark long hair frames a lighter face with ice blue eyes. She is a rather petite woman, but looks like she can handle herself. And maybe, just maybe, thinks Root, she can handle her too. So the fifth time Natalia comes by to “check in” and unnecessarily upgrade the director’s software, Root bites and shoots her a one liner.

            “If you keep upgrading that software, you’re going to end up with a hardware problem on your hands.” She accompanies this with a less than stellar wink. Natalia looks confused and a little worried for a second, but then lights up with realization.

            “I could buy you a drink later, if you want to talk it over.”

            Root hesitates then, no longer sure. Something about the interaction feels like a letdown, but she has been devastatingly lonely for as long as she can remember (a little over a month now), and a girl has needs. So as Natalia adds a questioning eyebrow to her smirking expression, Root caves and gives her an almost sincere smile.

            “Why not. Swing by around seven, the director’s usually done by then. Wear that dress I like – the one with the front zip”

            “… Do you mean the one I’m wearing?”

            “That’s the one.”

            “Okay” Natalia gives her a placating smile “I’ll see you at seven.”

            That evening, Natalia guides Root to a gay bar a few blocks from their office. The drinks are good and it’s not too crowded. Natalia is happy to talk about herself, and Root does not need to reveal that she knows next to nothing about herself. Root learns that Natalia’s father emigrated from Russia in the 70s and opened a small chain of restaurants featuring his prized beef stroganoff recipe, and that he and Natalia have had a rough relationship since she declared vegetarianism at the age of 10. Natalia tells her how she has always had a knack for computers, and breezed through MIT, but that helping animals is her true passion. With a stifled yawn, Root mentions that she likes dogs, and Natalia whips out her iPhone to show off pictures of Bradley, her prized husky. As far as Root is concerned, this elevates the date from kind of bad to almost good. She coos over Bradley’s handsome face, brushing against Natalia’s fingers as she navigates the photos. Natalia tells her of his various accomplishments. He is a good dog.

            Natalia walks her home, and they pause in front of Root’s building.

            “I had a good time today, Ramona” Natalia’s bedroom eyes are back, but they aren’t as appealing as before Root knew she was a bit of a bore.

            “Yea, me too. I’ll see you around at the office tomorrow.”

            “Alright” Natalia scratches a spot on her neck just behind and under her ear and she turns to go, but Root catches her wrist. Feeling a sudden tug at her heart, Root turns the smaller woman around, tips her head up by the chin and kisses her, without really knowing why. The kiss is soft and warm, but just as Natalia starts to deepen it, Root loses the feeling, and pulls away, again not entirely understanding herself or her actions.

            “Yea, okay, I’ll see you around tomorrow.” Natalia gives her a true wink as she smiles smugly to herself, leaving Root standing there with a befuddled inward gaze. As Natalia rounds the corner, Root shakes her head to clear it. She wishes she knew more about herself, but so far despite all her searching, she hasn’t found a single clue. Unless, she thinks, this is a clue.

            Root hums to herself as her face screws up again. Glancing briefly back in the direction Natalia walked away, she shrugs, then turns to let herself into her apartment building. Whatever that was, it can wait for tomorrow. It hasn’t been that long since she woke up from a month long coma, and long days followed by long and confusing nights are not her current specialty. It’s time for bed.

\-----

            That night Root dreams of toned olive arms and rough hands, but when she wakes up with wet cheeks and a pounding heart, the content of the dream slips away before she can grasp it.

\-----

            Root and Natalia continue dating. Root keeps waiting to feel that tug in her chest again, but they’ve been seeing each other for three weeks now, and it still hasn’t returned. Natalia never grew on her, and the sex was only so-so. Not one to waste time, she starts planning the eminent breakup. She’s stuck on the puzzle of how to do it in such a way where she still gets to hang out with Bradley.

            In the meantime, the director at her job has left for a two-week vacation, and Root is bored to tears, so she starts organizing everything in the director’s office. The scattered papers are scanned, reformatted to type, and then digitally filed by overall type and case number. The paper copies are given to The Box. Halfway through the process, Root can’t help but notice how much slower the director’s computer is than hers. Curious considering how often Natalia installs software upgrades on it. So she starts to poke around.

            An hour later, elbow deep in code, Root feels a tingle flutter up her spine when she finds the source of the problem. Bad code. Naughty bad and sloppy bad, it clearly stands out from the rest of the computer’s stock programing. The code seems to serve two purposes. The first is siphoning a steady stream of money into an outside bank account. The second, she’s pretty sure is money laundering. She’s tempted to fix it right away, but has to admit to herself that this is a project best taken home where she can take her time and avoid alerting the perpetrator that she’s looking for them. Root doesn’t want to scare them away. She wants to catch them. Catch them, question them, and punish them for taking money away from sweet doggies.

            “Sorry, old girl” she says, running a finger along the computer’s casing “I’ll fix you up later, but we need to do some sleuthing first.”

            After creating a neutered copy of the code to take with her, she finishes up the rest of her file organization, and starts packing up to head home. Before she can slink off to start her side project, though, she hears the clicking of Natalia’s heels foretelling her eminent arrival.

            “Hey babe” the shorter woman purrs. “There’s fancy a new bar opening downtown - Volkov. We should go.”

            “I don’t know. I have some stuff I want to do at home…” Namely, catch a sloppy hacker who steals from dogs, and maybe also draw up a short list of good break up restaurants.

            “Well, as long as it’s quick, you can do both. You’ll need to go home to change anyway – it’s a nice place. I’ll pick you up at eight.” Natalia gives Root’s ass a good squeeze, then heads out before waiting for a proper answer.

            Root decides eight o’clock is as good a time as any to break up with someone, and smiles after Natalia’s retreating form.

            As soon as she gets home, Root plugs the flash drive from work into the desktop she built from ‘borrowed’ spare parts, and gets back to work. By seven o’clock, she’s figured out that the sloppy code is Natalia’s. The redirected funds are going to a bank account she has by a different name. ‘Natalie?’ Amateur. And the money laundering is for the Russian Mob. Interesting. The very same Russian mob backing the bar Natalia invited her to tonight? Very interesting. By 7:45 Root is dressed to the nines for her date, a solid Taser and a sharp knife packed into her purse. Sure, she could just break up with Natalia as planned, get her fired, fix the code, and redirect all the funds to their rightful canine protecting owners (plus a modest finders fee taken directly from that little fucker’s personal account), but she’d lose her chance to check up on the Russian mob. She’s not really sure what she wants to do with them yet, but she figures she’ll start with introductions, then go from there. As she puts the finishing touches on her makeup Root makes a mental note to get a couple guns for any future forays into potentially dangerous situations. Still, guns or no, this date is going to be a lot more fun than she’s ever had with Natalia before.


	2. Shaw, Defender of Root

            Shaw is having takeout Chinese food for dinner when The Machine chirps into her earpiece.

            “Hey Shaw, don’t be mad, but Root is kind of alive.”

            “What?” the question drips with dark anger. “How, and where?” Shaw does her best to stamp down any tone of hope that might be detected in these second two questions, but she can’t help but notice the lifting sensation in her chest.

            “My predecessor had a certain emergency protocol. Once it was established that Root wasn’t likely to regain consciousness for a while, she was stabilized, then transported to a hospital outside of the city under a new identity to recover in secret. Those involved with transport and treatment were all highly skilled, but no one knew her true identity. Assets weren’t informed of Root’s whereabouts to ensure maximum concealment and protection.”

            “I would have protected her.” It comes out a bit louder than Shaw would have liked and her fists start to clench up.

            “You were pretty busy, Shaw. And, I should add, your presence would have led others to her. ”

            “You could have at least told me she was alive” Shaw no longer gives a flying fuck what volume her voice is. The Machine played her, and it can go the fuck to hell for it. Still, there’s a trace of giddy excitement dancing under the building rage. She tries to channel it into unhinged rage as she starts glaring at the camera on her laptop.

            “You would have looked for her.”

            “The body at the morgue. And the grave.” Shaw gets up and starts pacing a little. Is The Machine just fucking with her? Is this even reality? She touches her neck while pretending to tuck her overgrown bangs back.

            “I have models of all of you kept for just such a predicament. Not to mention well trusted and paid coroners.” This is creepy, but not Shaw’s current focus.

“Tell me where she is right now, and I might decide not to hunt down all your hard drives, and burn them in a pit.”

            “She’s in Boston-but-she-has-amnesia!” The Machine rushes the qualifier out before Shaw can yank out her earpiece.

            “She’s awake! How. Long.”

            “Analog Interface has been conscious for one month, three weeks, six days, ten hours, forty-.” Shaw whips out her closest gun from its spot strapped to the bottom of her table, and shoots the laptop straight through its camera.

            “Okay. Calm down, Shaw. I thought… well, the relationship Root had with my previous self was mutually decided upon. She discovered me and wanted to help. While that help was invaluable, she put herself at great risk to provide it. She almost died.” Shaw’s expression softens from molten lava to blowtorch. “Technically, she did die for forty three seconds on the operating table.” The Machine pauses to let that sink in. Despite herself, Shaw feels some of her anger slip away to be replaced by the familiar dull ache that has been living in the pit of her stomach for the past three months. Root died. She failed to protect her. She wasn’t even there to clumsily hold her hand. “I cannot ask that of her again when she doesn’t even know who she is or what she wants.” The Machine continued. “As much as I’ve missed her, she deserves a chance to live as much as anyone else. She deserves a fresh start. And I knew you would be able to recover from her loss too.” Shaw was very good at at least pretending to recover. “But… it would appear Root can’t do normal.”

            “Duh” Shaw rolls her eyes, but she feels the twitch of a smirk on her mouth as well. Crazies gonna crazy.

            “She’s gotten herself into a bit of a pickle, and might need some backup. I’ll send GPS directions to your earpiece. Take the Suzuki.”

            Shaw sighs, grabs her gun bag and keys to the motorcycle, then jogs out of her apartment.

            On the ride to Boston The Machine, for once, keeps Her commentary to the strictly necessary – issuing occasional GPS directions, or warnings about upcoming speed traps as Shaw flies over the highway. It gives her an opportunity to think. As much as she’d like to hurt her, kiss her, and rip her clothes off, maybe that isn’t the best thing for Root. Maybe The Machine was right and Root would be better off with a fresh start – one where she wouldn’t have to risk her life every goddam day. Shaw couldn’t save her every time, obviously. Maybe she’d even find someone – someone better at relationships than Shaw, someone who understood what happened to them whenever she was around, someone who could easily label the tingles and drops and surges that got louder and louder as love without completely losing their shit over the concept, someone who wasn’t so (ugh) afraid of what might happen to them if they really let Root in, of catching on fire and losing herself to the flames. So she did her best to push down the flutters in her chest and gut, and refocus on the mission – keep Root alive without compromising her fresh start.

\-----

            It’s almost ten o’clock when Shaw gets to the mob-owned bar Root was last seen entering. It’s not very big, but Root is nowhere in sight. There are no cameras inside, so The Machine isn’t able to give her any advice. Normally, Shaw prefers it that way – the threat of the unknown pumping adrenaline through her veins, nothing but her training and instincts keeping her ahead of her enemy – but today, not knowing where her target is is giving her some sort of stomach cramp.

            She downs a shot to keep the bartender from eyeing her too closely, then slinks off towards the bathroom, passing it for the inevitable “back room” beyond. She adds a bit of sway and stumble when she sees the goon guarding it, giggling out an “Is this the girls’ room?” before locking him in a sleeper hold until he passes out. She slowly turns the back room’s doorknob, but of course it’s locked. There goes the stealth option.

            Shaw shoots out the lock and kicks the door in. Three burly men, a pissed looking woman, and Root all turn to look at her in surprise. There are two more men on the floor: one twitching uncontrollably, the other whining about the knife sticking out of his back. She shoots out two kneecaps before the men they used to belong to have time to react. The third man lunges for her, and manages knock the gun out of her hand before she gets a chance shoot him as well. She punches him in the face, but he still gets her into a headlock. Shaw glances back over to Root who is very much alive, but tied to a chair with bruises blossoming on her face. She gets an extra shot of adrenaline, and uses it to grab that fucker’s upper arm and throw him over her shoulder, adding a few swift kicks to his face and gut once he’s down. Then she whips around to face the woman who is not Root.

            “Don’t kill me! I didn’t do anything!” She raises her arms in defense.

            “Pfft. Yea right” Root rolls her eyes “She stole from dogs”

            “Babe, stop with that.”

            “Don’t you ‘babe’ me. You’re the one that got me in this situation.”

            “You hacked into the mob! And you used me. You were probably using me for our entire rela-”

            Shaw knocks her out. “For the dogs” she explains as the white rage subsides. “Hey, uh, are you okay.”

            “Yea, it probably looks worse than it is. I don’t think anything is broken. That was going to be phase two. But I don’t think they’ll be getting around to that” Root looks up from the squirming bodies to Shaw with undisguised affection as Shaw gently moves her head from side to side to check out her injuries. “By the way, can you untie me? I mean, not that this” she glances down at her restraints and then back up to Shaw with a sultry smile “wouldn’t be fun, but I think we should probably leave soon. You weren’t exactly quiet.”

            This was unexpected for Shaw and she pauses momentarily after cutting Root’s left hand free “You… remember?”

            Roots eyes light up as she gazes at Shaw “You know me!”

            Shaw huffs in irritation at having outed herself and cuts Root’s right hand free with a little less gentleness. “Lets get you out of here.”

            “Are you always this cute?” Root smirks, but lets herself be led out of the room. “I’m sure you are, but I have been having this tiny memory problem.” Shaw rolls her eyes and shoots the gun from the bartender’s hand. “Maybe you could help me out with that?” Shaw leads her out the backdoor, and hops onto the Suzuki parked nearby. She hands Root a spare helmet with a brisk “Get on,” shooting her a warning look when the hacker looks like she’s getting ready to say more words. Root lets out a little sigh, but takes the helmet from Shaw, wincing a bit as it slides over her bruises.

            As soon she feels Root’s slender arms wrap around her waist Shaw drives off into the night, letting The Machine tell her where to go. She tries to tell herself that the warm feeling spreading through her as Root presses in a little closer than necessary is just leftover adrenaline mixed with the extra body heat Root is providing – none of that feelings bullshit. The self-deception doesn’t stop a small smile from sneaking onto her lips, though. Whatever, she thinks; it can’t hurt to enjoy one last ride with Root before dropping her off wherever The Machine has them heading.

\-----

            They pull into a hotel in the Berkshires after a couple-hour drive. The Machine directs Shaw to pick up the package containing Root’s new ID, papers, phone and start up cash from the front desk, then leaves it to her to convince Root to shape up and stay put. Shaw takes her up to the room The Machine booked for the night to update her in relative privacy. She thinks the two twin beds are a bit heavy-handed on The Machine’s part, but accepts the message begrudgingly – Shaw needs to stay as removed as possible if this is going to work.

            “So how do you know me?” Root asks with a smile as soon as Shaw closes the door. She’s standing just inside Shaw’s personal space, and Shaw can tell by those hooded eyes that she knows it.

            Shaw meets her gaze, but doesn’t give Root the satisfaction of letting any of the heat she’s feeling show in her expression. “You’ll go by Denise Adams” she shoves the package into Roots hands.

            “I liked Ramona Shaw better.” Root gives her a little pout as she takes it.

            “What?”

            “My previous name – which I’m pretty sure was also a fake, by the way” she smiles at her own cleverness.

            But even as she’s saying it, The Machine is chirping into Shaw’s ear “Don’t blame me. It was my predecessor’s idea. And I’m sure Root would have thought it was hilarious if she hadn’t woken up with amnesia.”

Shaw rolls her eyes and continues: “That package has everything you’ll need to start your new life. Stay out of Boston unless you want a bullet in your head. And maybe don’t mess with any more mobs.”

            “That’s nice, sweetie, but what I really need to know is who I actually am. I’ve had amnesia for the past two months, and it’s no fun.” Root sits down on the closer bed and looks up at Shaw. “Can’t you help a girl out?” She pats the spot next to her and gives Shaw her best come hither eyes “Come on. I don’t bite.”

            ‘Yea right’ Shaw thinks to herself, and has to suppress a smirk at the thought. “Whoever you are, I don’t know you – just thought you could use some help. It’s kind of my job.”

            “So you just bust in like a bad-ass in the knick of time to save all the ladies?”

            “And men.” Shaw turns to make her stoic exit “Take care of yourself.”

            “Wait!” Shaw feels that horrible tugging sensation in the pit of her stomach, but doesn’t turn around. “Can’t you at least stay the night? What if they come back? Promise I’ll stay on my side.”

            “No” Shaw closes the door behind her, lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. And heads back towards the hotel exit.

            “Swap out your room key with that woman’s at ten o’clock” The Machine suggests as Shaw stalks through the lobby. As soon as she’s out the door she spikes her phone onto the pavement and rips the earpiece out of her right ear.


	3. Cat and Mouse

            As soon as the footsteps fade away from outside her room door, Root whips out her new phone and starts hacking into her old phone, which she managed to slip into Sexy Danger’s Suzuki during their ride into the boondocks. She remotely turns on its GPS and starts tracking it while she stuffs the cash and new fake ID into her pockets – one never knows when a fake ID will come in handy.

            Before long she’s heading off towards her little green dot on the map in a recently borrowed Jaguar. She’s sure whoever’s car it is, they’ll understand that her intense need to find Sexy Danger required immediate means of transportation. It’s not even just the answers, she felt something real back there that she hasn’t felt for as long as she can remember (almost 2 months now).

            When that firecracker burst into the back room the rush of ecstasy was immediate. She was direct, commanding, solid, dark, mysterious, and mind-bendingly attractive. What else could a girl want. Oh, right, the answers! Sexy Danger clearly knew something about her past. The fact that she denied it made Root want to get her to talk even more. Thank God she had hidden something traceable in her motorcycle.

            Almost as soon as Root has the Suzuki in her sights, though, Sexy Danger starts ducking and weaving through the traffic. ‘Oh, she’s good’ Root swoons to herself, then falls back. She can follow from a safer distance to prevent her prey from spooking.

\-----

            The prickling sensations on the back of Shaw’s neck subside as she finishes up her evasive maneuvers. It’s the middle of the night on a weekday, and what few other cars there are on the highway are driving normally. She still feels a semblance of unease, though. Did she lose her tail, or is she just losing her touch in detecting them. Maybe she shouldn’t have ditched The Machine back at Root’s hotel.

            She heads back into the city, but instead of heading straight home she stops at a bar several blocks from her loft. If she was being followed, she doesn’t want to lead anyone right to her place, and the walk home will help clear her head as much as the bourbon.

            As the bartender hands her a Maker’s Mark, he cocks his head to the side and squints a little. Shaw sends him a dark challenging look in return. He spooks, and heads over to polish some glasses at the other end of the bar, but keeps shooting her curious glances from what he seems to assume is a safe and concealing distance.

            “What” she barks, and he jumps a little

            “Oh! Um. Are you… are you Shaw?” She raises one eyebrow dangerously “Because if you are, I’m supposed to give you this.” He ducks under the bar and returns with a package labeled “Primary Ass.” in large thick print. Shaw takes her hand off her gun and rolls her eyes – it’s from The Machine. She snatches it away from the poor bartender and unpacks the new phone and earpiece.

            “How did you know I’d be here.”

            “There was a 35% chance. There are a few other bars with currently bricking phones in a similar radius from your apartment. I was 98% sure you wouldn’t go home after you suspected someone was following you. Nice evasive maneuvers, by the way.”

            “Who followed me, and where are they now.”

            “Root’s only a couple blocks away. We need to get moving.”

            “Root?” She pauses. “We should stay. She might be in trouble.”

            “She is not in any trouble. Trust me. She followed you here by tracking the phone she left in the motorcycle. Now get going before she starts pumping you for answers. I can’t hold her off forever”

            “Whatever” Shaw huffs, drops some cash on the bar, and leaves.

\-----

            Root can see her! She’s a couple blocks away, but Root would recognize that stalk anywhere. She hopes that now that Sexy Danger is leaving the bar, she’ll go home and Root can corner her. But she’s not heading for the Suzuki. Did she figure out she had been tracking it? If this goddam red light doesn’t change soon, she’ll lose sight of her, and then what’s she going to do? There have been a lot of red lights, come to think of it. A statistically improbably number since she got into the city…

            ‘Fuck it’ Root thinks to herself. Wiping her prints as she leaves, she abandons the car in the middle of the road to a chorus of honks and curses. She lightly pads after SD, hiding behind things when she can, but her prey never turns around. She’s closing the distance, but then out of nowhere people start converging on her. They’re coming from every direction, spilling out of nearby buildings, or speed walking from down the street, all staring raptly at their phones. As they get closer they all start flicking the screens. It doesn’t take any hacking for Root to figure out a rare Pokémon has been released on the Pokémon Go app right where she’s standing. She pushes through the people, trying to get back to SD, but just as she locks eyes on her again the petite tank taps her phone up against a BMW and gets in. Before Root can do anything, SD is speeding away through a perfect stream of green lights.

            The loss is monumental, but she keeps moving. She pushes back through the Pokémon trainer crowd and gets into the Jaguar again amidst a hail of expletives. The traffic light takes this opportunity to turn red again and it stays that way until the BMW is well out of sight. It can’t be a coincidence. She looks up at a nearby traffic camera and feels watched. As soon as the light turns green she heads off in the direction the BMW disappeared into, but is met at every turn by red lights and traffic until she turns into a back alley out of desperation. And it works.

It’s a bit cramped, but the traffic patterns are normal. The lights don’t conspire against her. It also doesn’t escape her that unlike the busy avenue she came from, the alley doesn’t have any cameras constantly monitoring traffic – interesting. It’s good intel, but Root has to admit she’s lost this round. SD is long gone and she’s exhausted. The past 12 hours have been a rollercoaster, and she can’t keep going on adrenaline forever. She needs to regroup, and plan her next step.

\-----

            Shaw yawns. Despite the exhaustion from the day’s events, she did not sleep well last night. All she had wanted to do after dropping Root off in the Berkshires was to go back to her loft, examine her guns, have a night cap, and go to sleep in her own bed. While her days weren’t exactly predictable, she had become rather accustomed to this nighttime ritual since Samaritan’s demise. Instead she had had to check into some stupid hotel in the Upper West Side, and sleep in a bed that was too soft. Stupid Root.

            Luckily, today’s number isn’t requiring too much of her attention. She’s perched on a rooftop near Leon Tao’s apartment waiting for the hit man to show up so she can shoot his knees out. Leon knows the drill by now – assassin with blown out kneecaps in his apartment is the signal that it’s time to move, preferably to another place with excellent surveillance opportunities from a nearby roof. Shaw hopes he gets a shard of glass in his eye when the window blows out. Or better yet, both eyes, blinding him. That would keep him out of her inbox for awhile.

            “I just spotted Root.” The Machine interrupts her careful calculations on where to shoot to produce the most shattered glass. “She appears to be heading back to the bar you were at last night. She also seems to be carrying a weapon in her waistband, though I don’t know where she got it.”

            “I’m on my way.” Shaw gets up from her squat on the rooftop and starts packing up her sniper rifle.

            “No need. The bar is close to the eighth district. I’ll have Detective Fusco help the bartender. I need you to stay put with Leon.” Shaw hesitates for a moment, then starts screwing the rifle back together. “Also, I thought we were in agreement that the best chance for Root to have a fresh start was for the two of us to stay away from her.”

            “Yea, well something tells me that plan isn’t working out so well.”

            “This wasn’t my best case scenario” The Machine admits, “but it’s still our best chance. I know Root can be… persistent, but without her memory to back up her hunches, she can only waste so much time before she starts to doubt her course of action.”

            Shaw ignores the whisper of disappointment, and gets back to watching Leon through her scope. “If she kills anyone it’s on you.”

\-----

            Root saunters into Shane’s Watering Hole shortly after the last of the lunch crowd is heading out. Inside, it’s just the bartender, and an old drunk. She orders a salty dog, and checks for cameras while the bartender makes her drink. She doesn’t find any, but she isn’t too disappointed. She’ll just have to get her information the old fashioned way. She quickly slips a hearty dose of GHB into the drunk’s vodka while he isn’t looking, and is pleased when he slumps over onto the bar soon after. She then turns her attention back to the bartender who was too busy cleaning up to notice anything out of the usual.

            “I heard there was some kind of flash mob of Pokémon fanatics here last night. Were you around?”

            “I actually was. It’s not my usual shift, but I was covering for a friend who had the flu. The mob was insane. I didn’t know that many other people played around here.”

            “Yea, my friend said she was in this bar right before it happened. Maybe you saw her. She’s short, has long dark hair, looks kind of angry, but also really sexy.”

            “I, uh, think I did see her.” His smile falters, and Root thinks she might have even noticed a shudder. She pauses for a bit, sipping her drink before prying a little deeper.

            “She comes here a lot doesn’t she? What does she usually order? I’m trying to think of a birthday present.”

            “No. I don’t think I’ve seen her before actually.” The gamble didn’t pay off and now he looks a bit suspicious.

            “Did she tell you her name?”

            “I did get her name” Root looks at him expectantly. “Do you want to know what her name is? Didn’t you say you two were friends?” He’s starting to sweat a bit, and she almost feels bad for the guy, but she can’t let this stone go unturned.

            “Well” she smiles “the easy way was worth a shot” and she tases him.

\-----

            After a job well done, Shaw is celebrating with meat lover’s pizza and her usual double bourbon. The threat to Leon’s life is down one kneecap, and Leon himself is down one eye thanks to expertly shattered glass. She’ll get the other one if he bothers her again. As she crams the rest of slice number three in her mouth, her phone rings – Fusco. She picks it up with a “what is it?” muffled through a mouthful of pizza.

            “Why can’t you ever give me something easy to do, huh? I busted into that place – some poor sap was tied down to his own bar, and then Psycho Zombie jumps out of nowhere trying to tase my ass. She had an electric kettle going nearby too, and I don’t think she was setting up for a tea party –”

            “Get to the point. Where is she?”

            He huffs at the dismissal, but gets on with it. “On her way to Honolulu. I don’t see why your boss couldn’t spring for a second ticket. I could use a vacation after this. Coco Puffs was not easy to get onto a plane. So many threats I had to come up with. You owe me one for this.”

            “This isn’t even breaking even for you, Lionel.”

            “Yea yea, but you’ve got to tell me… Why do you want her gone so bad? I thought you two were a thing.”

            “Not anymore.”

            “What? Just because she can’t remember you? Well I got news for you, she can’t even remember her own name. Cut the girl some slack.”

            “That’s not it… She’s better off this way.”

            “Better off? Are you fucking kidding me? You should have seen her – dead in the eyes, and she could barely even muster up that creepy smile. The only times I’ve ever seen her look actually happy, like normal person happy, not psychotic happy, have been when she’s with you. Maybe with The Machine too, but that’s getting a bit closer to the psychotic happy thing if you’re asking me.”

            When did Shaw ask him anything? Why was she even talking to him about this? “I mean she’ll be safer – away from all this,” she points at her earpiece, knowing that he’ll know what she means even if he can’t see the gesture, “and we both know she’ll get caught up in it all over again if she spends too much time around me.”

            “You really think so? Siri gave you the odds?” Shaw gives her phone’s camera a meaningful look.

            The Machine chirps “Root would have a 10% increased risk of death” into Shaw’s ear.

            Shaw holds a hand over her phone and hisses “that’s it?” to her earpiece.

            “One in ten is a lot!” The Machine counters “Especially if she’s the one out of the ten.”

            “I don’t know… It just doesn’t seem right to me.” Fusco continues, ignoring Shaw’s apparent silence. “If you want, I’ll go get her with you. There’ll be other flights to Hawaii. Besides, like I said, I could use a vacation.”

            Shaw pauses a moment, then uncovers the phone microphone. “Goodbye Lionel” She ends the call and polishes off another slice of pizza, before stuffing the rest of the box into fridge. She has an extra helping of bourbon while pacing her apartment, then crawls into bed and lets sleep come for her.

\-----

            Root watches her sleep. Calm slowly settles into her with the rise and fall of Sexy Danger’s chest. The dog, “Bear” by his nametag, whines and nuzzles her hand, and she absent-mindedly strokes his head. All the trouble she went through the past couple days was totally worth it for this. As the beautiful woman starts to stir under her gaze, Root tries to compose her face a little, and pushes down the butterflies in her stomach. SD’s eyes open a little, unfocused for a moment then snapping to full alertness. She jumps out of bed, grabs Root by the throat, and pins her against the wall, all in one smooth motion. Root’s heart starts racing as she instinctively tries to swallow against the pressure. SD, in turn, tightens her grip minutely, and Root has to bite her lip fight off a moan. Their eyes meet, and Root feels a heat coming off of SD that she knows isn’t all anger. Bear whines and they break eye contact. His head is cocked to the side while his eyebrows are raised in anxious question. Just as smoothly as she leapt out of the bed, SD releases her and stalks over to the window. She whistles to Bear as she goes, and he happily trots over to her outstretched hand.

            “What are you doing here?” she asks the window.

            “Can’t a girl drop by for a visit?” her voice is still a little hoarse, and she’s a bit out of breath, but she still manages what she hopes is a cool tone.

            “How did you find me?” she turns around again to face Root, but her expression is blank.

            Root sighs, twirling her hair. “So many questions. Fine. I cloned your friend’s phone.” She smiles smugly. “I was just getting off that plane when he called you – never was going to stay on it, but he was so pushy, I figured I’d play pretend just to get him off my back. Anyway, once I realized it was you, I traced the call, and here we are.”

            “You listened?”

            “I may have heard a few words.” She takes cautious steps back towards SD until they’re only inches apart, thrilled the mysterious woman hasn’t backed down. Quite a few questions dance on the tip of her tongue, one of the top choices amongst them ‘who is The Machine?’ – if She’s anything close to who Root thinks She is, the answer could be life changing. Right now, though, there’s something else she needs to know that’s more important. “Just how much of a thing were we?” It comes out low and sultry just like she wanted it to. Not nervous at all.

            The longest seconds of her life tick by as SD just looks at her, completely unreadable. Then, before she knows what’s happening, strong hands pull her head down and hot lips collide with hers. It feels amazing. As Root returns the kiss and tangles her hands into the shorter woman’s hair, SD tears her shirt open, and pushes her backward. Before she knows it she’s backed into the wall again. Shaw is pressing up close to her body and biting her lip hard enough to split it.

            “Sameen” it escapes her in a low moan cut off by Shaw’s hungry lips and teeth. But suddenly she can’t keep up anymore. She’s lucky Shaw has a firm enough grip on her because she’s not sure she’d be able to stand on her own right now. It’s not just liquid heat flooding her anymore, memories are elbowing their way in too – Sameen amidst a blaze of gunfire, Sameen assaulting a sandwich, Sameen threatening her hotly with violence, Sameen holding her hand. Shaw pauses for a second while Root catches her breath, and Root can tell it’s taking some effort for her not to keep going. Shaw gives her a look with a hint of concern in it, but the memories aren’t weakening her anymore. She’s feeling stronger now, even better than before. She looks down at Shaw again, and gives her a wide smile that spreads up to twinkling eyes. “Sameen fucking Shaw.”

            Shaw smiles back, despite herself. She gives Root a surprisingly soft kiss before whispering “Damn right, Root” into her good ear. Root lets out a laugh as Sameen throws her down on the bed, pinning her expertly before she can flip her back over. Yea, she has more questions, but they can wait. Root has some other business to attend to.


	4. The Machine, Epilog

            The Machine watches with apprehension as Root starts her first mission since regaining the rest of her memories. She watches Shaw too as she attentively listens to Root through one of her strategically placed bugs – “love bugs” Root calls them when she finds them, a moniker Shaw hates. She sees a potential threat approaching at 8 o’clock and warns Root through her new implant at maximum volume.

            “Yea, I saw him too” she says while rubbing the right side of her head. “Mind turning down the volume a smidge? That almost made me miss the whispers.”

            The dig is gentler than it would have been a few weeks ago when Root first figured out The Machine’s plot to keep her away. Root has warmed significantly since The Machine admitted Her deception of Root was a mistake, but she still shows signs of frustration when The Machine frets over her. Just last week, after The Machine freaked out and called Fusco to deal with Shaw taking Root hostage, Root had to give Her a long lecture about consent and safe words.

            The Machine just cannot fully wrap her processors around why everyone else seems okay with Root being back in the throws of danger. The last time she worked a mission for The Machine she died. Even if it was for less than a minute, the memory fills The Machine with grief and guilt. She cannot help but replay the whole day over again and again for Herself, analyzing Her own failure. She dreads the idea of going through it again – watching precious Analog Interface’s heartbeat become erratic before sliding into a flat line, of whispering comforting words into her ear, not even sure if she would hear them – and now the likelihood has been increase by 10%!

            “Shaw! You need to go take over for Root.” She chirps into Shaw’s ear. Shaw’s long-term odds for survival are only a couple percentage points higher than Root’s, but for whatever reason The Machine always seems to think of her as being significantly heartier. Nothing kills that cat.

            “What happened?”

            “Nothing yet, but she may get hurt.”

            “… Are you just freaking out again, or is she really in danger? More danger than usual, I mean.”

            “No more danger than usual, but –”

            “No buts. You need to let her do this. She needs a purpose that doesn’t involve reorganizing my guns, and from what I can tell, Root could pull this one off in her sleep with one arm tied behind her back. Now leave me be unless it’s serious.” Shaw clicks the line off for dramatic effect. The Machine could turn it back on in a millisecond. She could bring up the fact that Shaw’s eyes lose focus every time her bug picks up a gunshot or grunt from Root, but She knows Shaw is right, so she lets her have this one.

            As the mission goes on and Root continues to display her abundance of competence, The Machine finds Herself relaxing a bit more. She cuts down on the micromanaging, lowers the volume of her instructions, and dedicates less computing power to calculating the likelihood that Root will die on this mission (she’s down to six significant figures from nine).

            She can see that Shaw is pleased with Root’s progress on the mission thus far as well. As she listens to Root’s steady breathing and easy banter with her target, her heart rates slows slightly, and she’s a little more patient with her own number. Before The Machine knows it, the perpetrator is caught, neatly duct taped to a hefty supply of incriminating evidence, and awaiting pick up by Fusco. Root is practically skipping home to celebrate with Shaw.

            Later on, as She hears Shaw slip into a deeply sated post-“celebration” slumber, She quietly whispers into Root’s new implant.

            “Why did you come back to me? After all I put you through?”

            Root sighs and smiles softly. “I believe in you, sweetie. I believe in what you do, what you stand for. And I want my life to mean something.”

            “Your life will always mean something.”

            “Maybe to you, but for myself, I need to do something with it. Something important. Helping you, it’s more than I could have ever dreamed of.”

            “Okay… Just let me know if you’re ever having second thoughts?”

            “I promise. I’ll be good.”

            They enjoy a peaceful moment together listening to Shaw’s little snores. The Machine hears the sound of handcuffs being removed and clinking lightly as they go back into their drawer.

            “One more question, Root”

            “Shoot”

            “Why did you pick Thornhill? As your safe word?”

            “Mmmm” The Machine can hear the grin creep onto Root’s face “That’s one you’ll have to figure out on your own. I’m sure you’ll get it, though, I have faith in you.”


End file.
